


Furred Companion Agency

by VincentMeoblinn



Series: Satyr Fics [7]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, Anthropomorphic, Dating, Faunlock, Fauns & Satyrs, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Multi, Oral, Out of Character, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is an escort at an agency that pairs Satyr with humans. He's also a writer going by the name of Doyle, but who is the inspiration for his characters? (They are very out of character intentionally. I mix personalities and lines from the show.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John had set up the tea tray and then rearranged it twice, checking for the vegetarian options that Satyr took in worry. According to the e-mail from Furred Companion Agency he wouldn’t be engaging in ‘sexual congress’ (their terms, not his) with one on the first meeting. Sadly that information, while completely fine with John, had the added bonus of making him feel as if he were going on an interview and needed to impress the Faun.

 

The bell rang and John hurried down the steps to open it and stare up and up until he met the hour-glass shaped eyes of a dark-haired Buck. He had curly silken locks and speckles across his sharp cheekbones. His nose and lips were a dark brown while the rest of his skin, down to his curly-furred legs, was a soft taupe- the rest of his _very visible_ skin. He wore only a simple brown leather loincloth with some pouches suspended from his hips as the only addition to his person. A file was in one hand and a dark blue scarf in the other. It was unseasonably warm out so he’d apparently taken it off on his way over.

“My, you’re tall,” John stammered, then blushed, “Sorry, that was a bit… I’m John, pleased to meet you.”

“Sherlock, pleasure,” He replied in a voice so deep it was almost a growl, but the bemused smile on his lips belied any concern that he was offended by John’s stammering.

“I’m just upstairs, won’t you come in?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Sherlock stepped in and John had a moment of worry about the stairs, but he seemed to have no issue climbing them. Perhaps like the Doe in his regiment he kept grips on his hooves. John motioned to the only chair in the room and the Buck slid into it with the grace of a danseur, crossing his legs seductively. John offered tea and he politely accepted, _not_ partaking of the vegetarian additions he’d bought, and waited until each had savoured their first sip to begin speaking.

“I take it I’m your first foray into companionship? At least where Satyr are concerned?”

“Well, yes,” John replied, “Bit obvious, eh?”

“Quite,” Sherlock smirked, “Have you any dealings with Satyr at all?”

“Some,” John admitted, “But none of it intimate. I’ve worked with one before and had a friend or two through Uni.”

“Well I do have a bit of information that I’m required to impart, so even if you’ve heard of it just tolerate my little speech,” Sherlock smiled warmly.

“Alright then,” John nodded, offering a plate of biscuits. Sherlock accepted one but placed it on a napkin and opened the file he’d brought instead.

“As your companion I am available to you for casual conversation by phone whenever I have the time, weekly dates, and overnight visits should our relationship develop into a sexual one. That being said, all individuals in the Agency have multiple clients at all times. You should assume that I am not your only sexual partner should our relationship develop to that point. It is also important that you be aware that I am capable of conceiving or impregnating anyone else who is capable of conceiving. I take birth control for my female anatomy but not my male anatomy. I go on Rut once a year in the fall with the possibility of going on it again mid-winter. During that time I am _highly_ fertile and will not be taking clients, nor will I even be in the area.”

John nodded and Sherlock handed hip a slip of paper, “Here are my most recent STI test results. As you are aware, we are not required to engage in sexual congress, but the option exists and is highly likely due to our sexual nature. Since Satyr bodies fight off 99% of STI’s I do not require my partners to wear prophylactics, nor do I wear them unless asked to, but I _can_ still pass on a disease without showing symptoms myself so be aware that you engage in sex- unprotected or otherwise- at your own risk.”

“Okay,” John nodded with a smile, “I’m no blushing virgin so I think I can handle that.”

“Comforting,” He deadpanned, “Your request indicated you wanted a male with above average intelligence to accompany your education and that conversation ability was important to you. I have an IQ of 143-“

“Good grief!” John spat out, “That’s impressive.”

“Quite,” Sherlock nodded, “Your survey also indicated that you had never had sex with men before now. Will you be interested in a sexual relationship? Or a friendship?”

“I rather thought we’d let that develop or not as it does,” John replied.

Sherlock gave him another soft smile and nodded, apparently pleased with his answer.

“Your survey stated your reason for applying for a Companion simply as ‘therapist’. May I enquire as to this response?”

John blushed and put his teacup down, clearing his throat nervously, “I hadn’t realized they’d share all those with you.”

“I am a valued employee,” Sherlock replied, “My welfare is their concern above your privacy. That information can be found in the Terms and Agreements you agreed to when you submitted your…”

“Yes, fine. I suppose that makes sense. Look, I was just invalided home from Afghanistan- I was in the army-“

“I’m aware of all that,” Sherlock stated, “I have your background check with me.”

Sherlock tapped his file. John swallowed. _Background check?_ _I should have read those terms…_

“My therapist wants me to start dating again since I strongly identified as a ‘ladies man’ in the service, but with PTSD, a limp, a tremor in my hand, and a huge hideous wound still healing on my shoulder I was rather not interested. She’s badgered me to the point I decided to go the easy way round.”

“A ladies man?” Sherlock prompted.

John shrugged, “She also wants me to try something new. I decided to combine the two and try my hand at dating a man. I feel out of touch with women, never truly interested in them so we never make a meaningful connection. I _can_ find men attractive but haven’t ever pursued it because I’ve always wanted kids. Then I read up on Companions and found out Satyr are supposedly better at it than humans…“

“For humans it’s often considered prostitution,” Sherlock nodded, “Some sort of ridiculous notion about monogamy. My kind often have plural relationships and engage in casual sex quite often without prejudice or jealousy.”

“Yes, well… I wanted the easy way like I said, and Satyr males _can_ have children so I figured if I can make that sort of thing work out then my dating pool will have expanded quite a bit for a future _serious_ relationship- er… not that I’m not serious about… I mean…”

“Logical,” Sherlock nodded with a smile, “Your check cleared the bank two days ago and as far as I’m concerned this interview is over. You may question me if you like or we can exchange contact information and begin our Companionship.”

“Do you like blokes?” John blurted out.

“I’m a Satyr, the distinction between male and female is cosmetic to me.”

“Do you like the aesthetics of a human male?”

Sherlock dipped his head at the difference in the question and answered this time, “I do.”

“Do you like this? This thing you do?”

“Quite a bit,” Sherlock nodded with a full smile, “I enjoy the ‘easy way’, as you put it. Satyr have trouble socializing with humans on a normal basis- cultural differences, you understand. Dating makes things doubly difficult and I prefer humans over my own kind for various reasons. This way I get paired up with someone who is likely to appreciate me without wasting time on dating morons.”

John grinned, “Okay, so… contact information? And I suppose a schedule of sorts?”

Sherlock pulled a business card out of one of his pouches and handed it to John. It contained his full name, mobile number, agency name and number, and the contact information for his union rep. It did _not_ have his address on it, which was probably quite smart. He’d already been told that any overnight stays would happen in his shitty bedsit.

John fetched a pen and paper and wrote out his information and handed it to Sherlock, “I’m afraid my schedule is always changing. I work a locum shift at the clinic. I put that number down too, but it’s better to reach me on my mobile.”

“We’ll work around your schedule. If it turns out we’re not compatible I’m sure someone else will be available. In the meantime I have two evenings open this week if you’d like to try this soon? Or we can spend time chatting on the phone?”

“I know my schedule for this week, so let’s give it a go.”

They discussed it a bit and then hugged awkwardly before Sherlock headed out. John sat down on his bed and wondered at how _warm_ he’d felt.

XXX

“Ah,” John sighed happily, sipping at the vegetable soup with a look of contentment on his face, “This _is_ a good restaurant.”

Sherlock smirked, “I won’t be offended if you eat meat, you know.”

“No?” John asked, lowering his spoon.

“No,” Sherlock chuckled, “I’m not even vegan, so you don’t have to bother with coconut creamer or wheat biscuits. I do _like_ wheat biscuits, but you needn’t go to any trouble.”

“Well, that’s good. What do you eat, besides vegetables that is?”

“Eggs, milk, cheese. Most of us eat milk and cheese, to be honest. We produce it in large quantities during mating season in order to lure in a mate by showing off the fact we can provide for our offspring. If that makes you squeamish you’ll have to avoid my nipples during the fall.”

John replied with a shrug, “I’ve never tried it so maybe I’ll enjoy it. Does it bother you?”

“No, I rather like lactation play.”

“Neat,” John nodded, accepting his main course as it arrived. He had ordered soup and a salad before Sherlock had arrived and was now regretting it, but he’d put up for it for now, “So why were you late? Everything okay? Your text was a bit vague.”

“Sorry about that,” Sherlock smiled ruefully, “I usually try not to be late to dates. One of my other Companions was having a bit of a down day. She gets depressed quite a bit and calls for comfort. I did tell her I would be busy for the next few hours at least, so we won’t be interrupted.”

“Will she be okay?”

“Yes,” Sherlock nodded, “Her friends are with her now.”

“That’s a relief,” John replied, “This time of year can be so hard on people.”

“Yes, I always get a surge of business,” Sherlock nodded, “So usually it’s _after_ this time of year that’s hard on me.”

“Why’s that?”

“They lose interest,” Sherlock shrugged with a sigh, “I form close ties with people and then find out later that they weren’t actually reciprocated. It’s not unexpected, but it is a bit disappointing.”

“Well hopefully that won’t happen with us,” John replied with a warm smile, “I’m not in it for the Holidays, at least.”

“No, I don’t think you are. So, tell me about your job.”

They chatted for a while; John bemoaning his boring job until he realized Sherlock was bored. Then he asked about hobbies and Sherlock’s entire face lit up.

“Mysteries?” John asked, eyebrows going up, “Like novels or children’s books?”

“Novels, of course,” Sherlock replied, looking insulted, “I’ve published three so far but _The Hounds Of Baskerville_ is my most famous.”

“Wait, you wrote that? My shrink is reading it!”

“Yes,” Sherlock smirked, “I use a more human pen name because far too many people won’t read a book written by a _goat_.”

John wrinkled his nose, but Sherlock didn’t apologize for being crude. Instead he launched into a description of his writing process that had John leaning forward in true interest. They ended up staying for a while after their final cup of coffee was done before finally heading back out the door. Sherlock offered to walk John home and they strolled along quietly after their chatty evening. John didn’t invite him up, but he did hug him goodbye again. He wasn’t sure how long before it would be polite to ask him inside, not having been out with either men or Satyr before. He rather thought Sherlock was ready but wasn’t sure if _he_ was yet.

 


	2. Chapter 2

John and Sherlock were out at a club. It was Sherlock’s idea. He was trying to get John out of his shell. So far John was sitting at a table watching Sherlock shake his tail- literally- out on the dance floor. He was quite fetching with his body writhing amongst the other dancers, even when compared to other satyr. He kept trying to drag John out onto the dance floor but he was being stubborn about it, mainly because he didn’t want to trod on anyone _or_ get trod on by Sherlock. He could tell Sherlock was a fantastic dancer, but John was sure to be stepped on if he danced with him simply because he was awful.

John was having more trouble dealing with the fact he was dating a man than he’d expected. Sherlock was desirable and he’d tossed off while thinking of him more than once, but it was one thing to fantasize and another to act on it. To top it off he’d read one of Sherlock’s books and, while they were marketed as mysteries they could just as easily fit in the adult section. It was liberally dosed with a smattering of very thoroughly described gay sex between the two main characters, Dawson and Basil. At first John had been shocked by the vivid descriptions, but he’d soon been _very_ into it… far too into it for someone who was reading it on the tube.

Sherlock had focused in on an adorable young man who was rather plump and shy. He looked a bit like Radar from M.A.S.H. He clearly had no self confidence and was afraid to approach Sherlock despite the inviting looks from the Satyr. Sherlock slithered back over to John and flopped down beside him.

“He’s cute,” John pointed out.

“Damn, saw that, did you? I must apologize. I-“

“No, don’t,” John laughed, “I know you see other people.”

“Yes, but flirting right in _front_ of you!” Sherlock looked truly abashed, but John was sure that it was an act. He had told John on more than one occasion that he didn’t understand human jealousy and often had to fake emotions when communicating with them.

“Want me to slip him your number?” John asked, leaning forward with an eager glint in his eye.

“Come again?” Sherlock asked, and John felt a jolt of power as Sherlock’s hourglass shaped pupils dilated with obvious desire. John’s hand moved of it’s own accord and slid over Sherlock’s hand to grip his wrist firmly.

“You obviously want him. Look at you, your pulse is racing, and it’s not from the dancing. You’re barely out of breath.”

“John,” Sherlock purred, his voice a deep, sultry tone as he leaned forward, “You’re enjoying this.”

John leaned forward, pressing his cheek to Sherlock’s so he could be heard over the music without having to shout, “Go to the bar and order him a drink. He’s sitting there now mourning his lack of courage. I’ll approach him and give him your mobile number.”

Sherlock shivered. He actually _shivered_ , and gripped the edge of the table. He nodded and when John pulled back his lips were parted as his breath sped up. John acted impulsively and dove in for a kiss, his lips hungry against the Satyr’s full flesh. Sherlock moaned, but John felt it rather than heard it. For a moment they were all teeth and tongue, and then John pulled away.

“Hurry before he leaves!” John ordered, and Sherlock sprung up to cross the dance floor… with a raging erection!

John gaped at him. So did a few other people. It wasn’t uncommon for men to become aroused in a gay bar, some even wore cock rings to keep themselves erect the entire time to show off their size. However Sherlock was the only Satyr in the bar, and he was wearing a skin tight, black, fishnet shirt and black leather pants that cut off at his calves. The arse was cut out to allow his tail to emerge with only a strip of fabric to cover his arsecrack.

He shouted at the bartender but the prick must not have liked Satyr because he ignored him in favour of waiting on other clients until one of them pointed Sherlock out. That was when John started across the floor, his own erection thankfully less prominent, and tapped the bespectacled young man on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” John smiled, “My friend’s rather taken with you.”

“Yeah, right,” The Radar look-alike replied with a laugh, “Next you’ll tell me to meet him in the bathroom for a one-off, but when I get there I’ll either get my arse handed to me or an embarrassing photo snapped.”

“Damn,” John faltered, “People around here are seriously fucked up.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Excuse me, sir?” The bartender interrupted, “The… _gentleman…_ over there offered to buy you a drink.”

“Oh, really?” Radar stammered.

John frowned at the man’s tone. He clearly wanted to use a more derogatory term but had refrained out of concern for his job.

“Your usual?” The man asked.

“Er… yeah,” Radar replied, turning back to John with a shy smile, “He really…?”

John nodded and leaned over to write Sherlock’s number on the napkin the drink had come with.

“Trust me, it’s worth it,” John winked, “You want me to give him yours?”

“Um…” Radar hesitated, “He won’t prank me?”

“No way,” John shook his head, barely stopping himself from adding ‘he’s a professional’ to the end of his response.

“Yeah,” Radar smiled, “Okay.”

He gave John his number with a shy smile and a vibrant blush. John grinned and hurried over to where Sherlock was leaning against the bar nursing his own drink. It looked like a momosa.

“He gave me his number for you,” John grinned, “You should take him home. He wasn’t pissed but he will be if he stays here longer.”

“I can’t do that,” Sherlock frowned, looking more annoyed than apologetic, “I’m here with _you_.”

“I don’t mind,” John told him, “I said I was your friend, not your date. He doesn’t have to know otherwise. The guy needs a self-esteem boost and you clearly want a lay.”

Sherlock was typing away on his mobile. Judging by the fact Radar was staring at his it seemed he was texting the man from the other side of the bar! Socially inept, indeed. John could see why he preferred the Companion agency.

“I could always take _you_ home,” Sherlock reminded, raising an eyebrow.

John hesitated. That kiss and the way he’d gotten the man’s number for Sherlock had made him feel more confident than he had recently, but he was still leaning on a cane like an old man. He stared down at it now, but Sherlock’s hand folded over his.

“He says he liked you too,” Sherlock told him, staring down at his mobile rather than up at John’s face, “He saw us kissing and he wants to know if we’re in an open relationship.”

“Well, yeah,” John snorted.

“Let’s take him home together.”

“What?” John asked.

“I’ll ask him if you’ll agree to it,” Sherlock’s eyes rose, challenge and desire glinting in them, “We could sandwich him between us. Think of how _soft_ and eager he’ll be! I’ve not had a threesome in _ages_.”

John swallowed. Hard. He’d liked John. He’d liked them _both_. John compared to Sherlock was like comparing Quasimodo with Esmeralda. On his own John was a decent looking guy, but beside Sherlock and since the injury he was an old man with a cane! Then again, this guy had been treated like shit. Maybe after he’d had a wild night with John and Sherlock John could pick him up as a proper date. It could work, and they’d _both_ still have Sherlock to liven things up.

“Yeah,” John grinned, “Yeah, sure.”

Sherlock smirked and typed away on his mobile again, “He’s into it! John, this is _brilliant!”_

“I hope it makes it into one of your books,” John grinned.

“Oh, count on it,” Sherlock smirked, standing and bussing John’s cheek, “Let’s go.”

“Wait, whose are we going to? Mine’s a shithole and you don’t take people to yours so…”

“His, obviously,” Sherlock replied, wrapping his scarf around his neck and hooking his arm through John’s, “Let’s go. I’m fit to ruin these trousers. My other two dates haven’t been putting out. They’re _both_ on their cycles, can you believe that?”

John laughed, letting Sherlock tug him towards the door. Their Satyr friend collected Radar along the way and they both left with dazed grins on their faces and a smug Buck between them.

XXX

Once Radar had them in his home he turned from shy to octopus in an instant. John was overwhelmed but Sherlock was clearly thrilled. He took the brunt of Radar’s groping while John watched them strip each other of clothes without stopping for air as they snogged heatedly. John ended up stretched out beside them in just his undershirt while Sherlock pinned Radar to the bed and rubbed his engorged cock against the young man’s hard prick. John stared in shock. He was definitely going to be topping Sherlock if he ever got around to it. The Satyr was _huge!_

John had pulled out a few condoms from his pocket, but now he realized that none of them would fit Sherlock. Well, he and Radar would be fine. Then Sherlock scrambled for Radar’s bedside drawer.

“Top or bottom, John?”

“Definitely top,” John stated firmly, hoping they wouldn’t be offended.

“Andy?” Sherlock purred.

“Fuck me,” Radar panted, “Both of you.”

“John, mouth alright with you?” Sherlock asked, “In my needy state I’ll likely choke him.”

John nodded eagerly, giving his cock a few pumps before rolling a condom over it. Sherlock had gripped Radar by one leg and lifted it high. He was fingering him almost aggressively and Radar was moaning wantonly as Sherlock fucked him with two digits.

“Fucking hell,” John panted, scrambling up on his knees and giving his gloved member a squeeze, “Should I…?”

“Your touch would be most welcome,” Sherlock panted a bit.

John reached for the first thing he’d been fantasizing about. Sherlock’s tail. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked from base to tip. Sherlock stilled and let out a tense moan, as if John had just teased his cock rather than his tail. John swallowed hard and repeated the motion. Sherlock shivered, his tail giving a little wriggle in his hand, and then resumed fingering Radar with eager motions.

John’s hesitancy fled. He kneeled behind Sherlock and ran his hands over those shapely shoulders like he’d been wanting to do. He leaned in and breathed in Sherlock’s scent, a mixture of freshly cut grass, spices from his deodorant, and tantalizing almond. He ran his tongue over his skin, which was covered in a light coating of fur so fine as to be undetectable until John’s sensitive tongue teased it. John’s hands reached around, his body plastered against the Buck’s, and he rubbed his cock against his furry backside even as he finally wrapped both hands around that long, hard shaft. Sherlock moaned and Radar swore a few times and then let out a choked sound. Sherlock’s member was long, thick, hairless, and leaking copiously.

“I’m ready,” Radar grunted when Sherlock had worked up to four fingers in him, “Fucking _do it_ already!”

“Bossy,” Sherlock flirted, “John, shut him up with your cock.”

John groaned, releasing Sherlock reluctantly as he scrambled around. Radar had rolled onto his front and lifted up on hands and knees as John shoved pillows out of the way and knelt in front of him. Radar licked his lips but put up a hand to stop John before he could do more than tease his tip along his wet lips. Radar looked over his shoulder and John’s eyes widened at the sight when he glanced up as well. Sherlock was stroking his long shaft as he slowly pressed himself into Radar’s body. His eyes were wide, pupils so blown they looked human, his long body arched back just a bit as he rolled his hips forward to carry himself inside of Radar’s loosened body.

“Oh gods,” Radar moaned, “So fucking _huge_!”

“You okay?” John whispered, stroking the man’s hair gently.

“Better than,” Radar panted, “I’m gonna come _so fucking_ hard on his cock!”

John groaned at the idea and Sherlock hissed in excitement as he slid that last few inches in until he was buried inside of Radar’s arse. They paused a moment, panting as each adjusted, and John stared at them with his cock pulsing enviously.

“His mouth,” Sherlock panted, “Now.”

John shut his dropped jaw, cleared his throat, tucked the bottom of his shirt into the collar to keep it out of the way, cupped Radar’s cheek with one hand, and slid his cock into his open, panting mouth. Radar’s lips closed around his cock and suckled lightly. Even through the rubber he could feel the heat and the lubricant added to the realism. He moaned as he began to thrust slowly.

“I’m going to move,” Sherlock panted, “You’ll have to stay still.”

John stilled his hips with a frustrated groan, but was soon mentally taking it back as Sherlock’s long, hard thrusts pushed Radar’s mouth over his cock. John’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he Radar kept up a constant suction. His thrusts took him most of the way onto John’s cock, and Sherlock was speeding up. Radar choked as John was forced down his throat, so John took mercy on him and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. He worked himself a bit and stared down at Radar as he gave John a grateful glance and then moaned a bit enthusiastically. He was flushed with desire and Sherlock was panting as his hips flew into him, one hand on his lower back to steady his thrusts while the other reached back to play with his tail. John’s eyes widened in surprise as Sherlock suddenly stilled and let out a long moan. He watched as the muscles across his abdomen flexed as he came hard into Radar’s body.

 _Uh oh. That was over fast_.

Then Sherlock’s hips were flying, jerking Radar like a ragdoll as Sherlock turned from passionate to frantic. He’d moved his hands so that both gripped the plump man’s hips and fucked him fast and hard.

“Oh gods!” Sherlock cried out, eyes shut and head thrown back. John was gasping as Radar’s mouth flew over his own shaft. The three of them were dripping sweat and Radar was making soft whimpering sounds, clearly in need but unable to touch himself with Sherlock’s brutal pace wrenching his body about. John felt bad for him but was on the edge of a truly explosive climax. He couldn’t stop the coil in his gut as his body was teased closer and closer to release.

Sherlock let out a shout and John’s eyes flew open in time to see him coming again, but this time his hips didn’t still as he plundered him with nearly violent intent. That settled it for John and he came with a groan of relief, his cock pulsing hard into the condom. He couldn’t stand the motion then, grasping Radar’s head so that he could come with his cockhead pressed against the man’s tongue. Radar moaned enthusiastically, but John’s grip had altered Sherlock’s motion. The Satyr threw himself over Radar’s body, gripping his shoulders so he could continue taking him fast and hard while his body was stilled by John’s culmination. John pulled his wilting cock from Radar’s mouth, giving his cheek a gentle caress to show his gratitude, and quickly discarded of the condom in the trash. Sherlock was groaning as if in agony, his face screwed up as he frantically chased a _third_ climax.

John pressed a quick kiss to Radar’s lips, promised himself he’d get flavoured condoms next time, and staggered around to Sherlock’s back end. He knelt on the bed beside the two men and took up a firm stroke with both hands. With his left he reached out to toss off Radar and with his right he stroked Sherlock’s tail, but Sherlock’s hand gripped John’s wrist to stop him stimulating Radar. He knew why a second later as Radar came completely untouched, screaming out his release as he bucked and writhed beneath Sherlock’s body. John focused his energy on Sherlock, stroking his tail firmly with one hand while curiously slipping a spit-slicked finger between Sherlock’s arsecheeks. The second he touched his furled pucker Sherlock went off like a shot, grinding his hips into Radar’s body as he came for what seemed like ages. John groaned in longing as Sherlock shouted out his release.

Sherlock pulled free, arms shaking and eyes glazed with pleasure, and sat a bit off to one side. Radar remained still as Sherlock spread his arsecheeks.

“Look, John,” Sherlock panted, then repeated his order when John still didn’t look at Radar’s most intimate, and recently savaged, place.

John turned his head and stared. Sherlock’s come was all but pouring out of Radar’s stretched and reddened hole. It was winking at them both, his muscles trying to recall how to close his body even as Sherlock’s spunk slid down his taint and coated his bollocks.

“What do you think, Andy?” Sherlock purred.

John blinked. Andy?

“That was bloody fantastic,” Radar panted.

_Oh, so it’s Andy… bloody hell, I just had sex with someone without knowing their name!_

Radar- Andy- stood up with a cheered smile on his face, “You can really pick them, Sherlock.”

“Pick them?” John repeated.

“Andy and I are old friends,” Sherlock smirked, “Former client, current occasional lover. I had to get you out of your shell and in my experience his ‘shy boy’ act is the best way.

“I… You two... I’ve been _played?_ ” John asked, gaped at them.

“Hate the game, not the player,” Radar winked, then walked over to Sherlock with a confident swagger and gripped his horns to snog him firmly, “Been fun, Lock. Call me when you’re hard up again. I’m off for a shower. Let yourselves out. Ta!”

“No hard feelings, I hope?” Sherlock asked, putting out his hand to ask for help standing.

John grasped his wrist and helped him rise, “None. You can trick me into bed anytime you want.”

“Good,” Sherlock smirked, getting up on shaky legs, “Gods! It really has been too long! And three times! I need sleep. Badly.”

“Can I call you a cab?” John asked as Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and leaned in for a kiss. They spent a moment kissing slowly, Sherlock angling their hips away so his sticky member didn’t touch John’s body. When they pulled apart Sherlock gave him a tired nod and sat back down on the bed.

“I’ll just… wait here.”

Sherlock was snoring almost instantly. John chuckled and tugged on his clothes, heading into the kitchen to find some paper towels. He wet them and badgered Sherlock into sleepily cleaning off his cock. John called the cab company while Sherlock lazily dressed in just his loincloth. The rest of his clothes he slung over his shoulder.

“Cab will be here soon,” John smiled, “Ready?”

“Yes,” Sherlock yawned.

They climbed into the cab and Sherlock rattled off John’s address. John leaned back and relaxed, letting Sherlock pull him against his side. He sighed and laid his head against the Satyr’s shoulder, feeling warm both inside and out despite the chill in the air.

“You were gorgeous,” Sherlock’s deep voice spoke softly.

“I left my shirt on,” John muttered, then winced. He hadn’t meant to say that. It had been bothering him.

“I don’t think it was a problem,” Sherlock shrugged a bit.

“It’s just my shoulder,” John stammered, pulling away.

Sherlock pulled him back, “Don’t. We all have our scars to bare. Andy used to be morbidly obese. He was in the hospital for a heart attack at twenty-five! I was there for him while he lost the weight, holding his hand through the depression and self-hatred. You saw the scars from his reduction surgery?”

“Gods,” John whispered, letting Sherlock pull him back to his side, “He got lypo?”

“No, he lost it the old fashioned way, through two years of _painfully_ agonizing hard work and dieting. The surgery was for the loose skin. He had so much of it that it was appalling even to me, yet I never, _ever_ let him know that.”

“What are you trying to say?” John asked worriedly.

“That when you’re ready to let me see you with your shirt off I will afford you the same courtesy. I will _never_ look at you with anything but desire, no matter how I will feel inside.”

“I don’t want you faking attraction to me,” John worried.

“Then perhaps a Companion isn’t what you want in the long run, but John… it is what you _need_ right now. Let me give you your confidence back, then you can worry about what your _next_ partner thinks.”

John smiled a bit as the cab came to a stop in front of his building.

“Guess this is my stop,” John sighed, pulling Sherlock into a lingering kiss, “Goodnight.”

“You aren’t going to invite me up?” Sherlock asked, his smile teasing, “I was picturing a shower together.”

John winced, “I’ve just got a kitchenette and that one room you saw. The building shares bathrooms, shower’s included. We’ve got one on each floor.”

“Then we’ll have to be sneaky about it,” Sherlock snickered.

“You don’t mind?” John asked in surprise.

“I live in a bedsit myself. A building with mostly Satyr,” Sherlock replied with a shudder, “You have _no idea_ how much we shed in spring.”

John chuckled.

“You two lovebirds getting out? This isn’t a motel, you know,” The cabby grumbled.

“Yeah, just a tic,” John snapped, reaching for his wallet, “Will you stay after?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, “That _was_ the whole point of this evening: get you into bed. First his, now yours.”

John grinned, “Well let’s go, then.”

“Good. I left an overnight bag in there when I picked you up earlier.”

“You did?” John asked in surprise.

“I did it when you weren’t looking. I require use of a hair dryer after a shower so I made sure I’d have one on hand in case this went as well as I’d hoped.”

They slipped out of the cab and into the building, stopping at John’s little bedsit to get a few towels and his soap caddy. They hurried back, giggling a bit as they snuck towards the bathroom while hoping no one caught them. They slipped into the shower, Sherlock laying a towel in the bottom to avoid slipping, and soaped each other up while taking turns hogging the spray and snickering. Once they were properly cleaned up Sherlock sat on the toilet and dried off his legs while John rang out the towel and hung it up to dry on a the rack above the radiator. They dried off, brushed their teeth, and headed back, John in his housecoat and Sherlock with just a towel around his waist.

John led the way back in and they snogged a bit while heading for the bed. It was small and John balked a bit, but Sherlock curled up against the wall and put his arms out. John sank into them gratefully and they kissed slowly before relaxing into the bed and letting sleep take them.


	3. Chapter 3

John woke up to a long, hard shaft frotting against his backside and couldn’t help but grin to himself.

“Morning, gorgeous,” John sighed, sneakily checking his breath. It was horrific, “I need a piss before I can pay you any attention.”

“Leave the mouthwash here,” Sherlock muttered against the top of his head, “I’ll need to use it too.”

“Ponce,” John teased, sliding from the bed and heading for his soap caddy. He tugged out the mouthwash, took a swig, and tossed it to Sherlock. Then he hurried to the toilet because he really _did_ have to piss a river.

John returned to the sight of Sherlock flat on his back and stroking his cock eagerly.

“Well, now,” John grinned, “Starting without me?”

“So hard it hurts,” Sherlock growled.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that,” John purred, sidling up to the bed.

Sherlock moaned throatily, staring up at John through heavy eyelids as he continued to work his hand over his shaft. John reached down and cupped his heavy bollocks, nearly hidden beneath the thick fur at his crotch.

“They’re so big,” John said softly, “No wonder you can come so often.”

“Two is normal,” Sherlock panted, “One is nothing. Three is _exhausting_.”

John smiled as he sat down on the side of the bed, “Want a hand?”

“I’d prefer a cock,” Sherlock smirked, “What do you say? Up for it?”

“Up? Yes. Ready? Depends. Can I top?”

“I don’t know, can you?” Sherlock teased.

“I think I can manage,” John replied, pulling open the bedside drawer and taking out some lube.

Sherlock rolled over and presented his backside, his tail lifting with an eager flick. John smiled down at the sight of his little white pucker. It was bare around it, the hair starting light about an inch away and then becoming thicker until his arse looked twice as lush as it actually was. John reached down and gave him a squeeze, and he _was_ lush beneath all that fur. He parted his cheeks to get a better look at Sherlock’s entrance, licking his lips before blowing on it softly.

“Tease,” Sherlock accused, his hips jumping a bit.

“I need a dental dam,” John grumbled, “I want to rim you _so bad_.”

“Sorry, don’t carry them.”

“I’m out,” John muttered, “Oh well, nothing for it.”

John picked up the lube and drenched his fingers, rubbing Sherlock’s furled hole with his thumb. Sure enough his little rosebud opened up for him quite eagerly, and John’s thumb sank in.

“Wow,” John breathed, “You must do this often. Er… not that… I didn’t mean…”

Sherlock chuckled and John felt it around his thumb, “We are _made_ for this. I’ll stretch far easily than a human and retain my elasticity despite frequent bottoming.”

“Will I be big enough for you? No, nevermind. You wouldn’t tell me if I wasn’t.”

Sherlock chuckled, “If I were a size queen I wouldn’t be dating humans.”

“Fair enough,” John replied, then removed his thumb in favour of slipping in two fingers.

Sherlock _did_ stretch easily, and John was soon sliding a condom over his erection, slicking it up, and sliding into him with a deep groan. Sherlock’s channel sucked at him hungrily and John found himself able to move far sooner than he had the few times he’d done this with a woman.

John was soon fucking Sherlock fast and hard, his hips flying as he stroked along his tail with one hand and gripped his hip with the other. He tested Sherlock’s pain tolerance by gripping the fur there and pulling a bit. Sherlock groaned and pushed back eagerly, his hand still flying over his cock in heated need. John kept switching up angles, knowing where the prostate was on a man helped but he was normally finding it with his _finger_ , not his dick. He knew he found it when Sherlock shouted out his name and painted the bedclothes with his come. John gasped out his name as well as his muscles massaged John’s cock powerfully.

“I’m close,” John panted, realizing he couldn’t hold off for much longer, “Can I help you…?”

“My horns. Grab them and pull me up by them. Fuck me _hard_ ,” Sherlock gasped.

John grabbed him, manhandling him viciously, first by the shoulders and then by each horn as Sherlock through his head back helpfully. John dragged him up by them until his back was bent sharply and Sherlock was holding himself up by both hands. John expected that would _hinder_ his climax, but apparently the angle was magical for him because John’s next thrust had him shouting in pleasure. Three more hard thrusts, with Sherlock’s plush bottom snapping back against him, and they were both coming hard. John gasped and groaned as Sherlock’s fluttering muscles milked him for all he was worth. John leaned forward so he could lower Sherlock down onto the bed gently, the Satyr peaked over his shoulder coyly once his horns were released and gave him a contented smile.

_Not good enough._

“Roll over,” John ordered.

“John, three is rare and…”

“And I’m going for it. _Roll over.”_

Sherlock obliged and John leaned forward… only to balk at the idea of sucking him off without protection.

“It’s fine,” Sherlock soothed, reaching up to stroke his hair, “Honestly, I’m _quite_ satisfied.”

“I could use my hand,” John reached for him only to be gently stopped.

“I’ll just end up over sensitized,” Sherlock replied, shaking his head, “I need more than that to come a third time.”

John sighed, “This is probably the part where I start to get resentful of your other lovers.”

“I hope not,” Sherlock chuckled, “Considering we shared one last night.”

“Not that,” John replied, shaking his head, “I’ve been in all of _one_ monogamous relationship. I meant what I said about being a ladies man. It’s just that if you _were_ using protection with them…”

“Than I wouldn’t have to with you?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “You _do_ here how unfair that is? I’ve known Andy for _years_ longer than you. If I were to commit to one man, don’t you think it would be him?”

“No offense, because he _was_ fun as hell, but he seemed a bit flaky.”

“Oh, he is,” Sherlock chuckled, “Now that he’s got a mess of self-confidence he’s an arsehole. Thing is I _like_ arseholes.”

“And damaged people,” John noted, slipping his condom off and cleaning up with some tissues, “I can’t help but notice that every single one of your Companions is pretty messed up in some way, but the one you listed as a _former_ Companion’s got his shit together.”

“They stop needing me once they are capable of finding dates on their own,” Sherlock replied as John stretched out beside him, “So they generally stop seeing me officially. Some keep in touch, some ring me up for an occasional lay or to refer clients to me, and I get the occasional holiday or birthday card.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“I haven’t got one officially,” Sherlock shrugged, “My kind don’t celebrate them and I was born on a reservation, so the date wasn’t recorded. The birth certificate they gave me when I left the reservation just says January 1st. All of us are listed as New Year babies, but it’s far more likely I was born in spring as that’s typically when our kind give birth.”

“Okay, well if you don’t celebrate it I won’t disrespect you by forcing it on you,” John shrugged, “What about other Holidays?”

“We celebrate the Solstices and Samheim along with a few other tree-hugging Holidays,” Sherlock chuckled, “They’re full of heavy drinking and sex.”

“Mmm,” John smiled, “I might convert.”

“I’m completely shocked the entire world hasn’t already,” Sherlock replied with a straight face.

They both chuckled a bit, spent a moment kissing curiously, and then Sherlock groaned as his phone went off.

“My alarm,” Sherlock sighed, “I have a date tonight. I wanted to make sure I was freshened up.”

“You probably want to head home, then,” John nodded.

“I’ll need to, yes,” Sherlock sighed, “We’re going to an opera so I’ll have to wear a _suit_. I hate suits. I sweat in them.”

“You’re so warm,” John ran his hand across his shoulders as he carefully climbed over him and sat on the edge of the bed, “I had to kick off my blankets last night.”

“Sorry about that,” Sherlock replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Tea or coffee?” John asked.

“John, there’s one other reason people go from Companions to former Companions.”

“Let me guess, when they fall in love with you?”

Sherlock turned a bit, “Love is fine, but possessiveness is not. I’ve loved many of them, though few have loved me. I’m currently in love with two who I believe return my affections.”

“He’s the one taking you out tonight?”

“No,” Sherlock smirked, “But he _is_ the inspiration for my stories.”

“ _He’s_ Basil? I thought _you_ were,” John replied in surprise.

“No, he’s Dawson. I’m Basil,” Sherlock smirked, “You should hear him praise me.”

“Like that, do you?” John chuckled.

“A bit,” Sherlock admitted, “Today a rich government official who would hunt me down if I told you his name will be taking me out. He’s quite the arrogant sod, but he’s brilliant in bed and _incredibly_ intelligent. We’ve yet to run out of conversations to enjoy.”

“Bet he’s kinky, too,” John grinned.

Sherlock leaned forward and pecked John on the lips, “Don’t worry if you see rope burns on my wrists next time we meet.”

“Damn!” John’s eyes lit up, “Bring your toys next time!”

Sherlock grinned, “I think I will.”

XXX

John was walking home from the clinic with a spring in his step despite the limp in his leg. He was feeling better about himself and life in general, and he knew one Satyr was the reason for it. He checked his mobile as he got on the tube and found a few messages from Sherlock.

**I’m busy on Tuesday. Sorry. SH**

**No problem. I’m free Saturday, too. J**

**Let me check. SH**

John frowned. His agreement listed one date a week or he didn’t have to pay for that week, but he’d been having trouble syncing up with Sherlock for three weeks now. He knew it was a pain what with his erratic schedule and him not knowing what it would be until it was posted, but this long of a delay between dates was leaving John worried.

**Nope, busy then too. What about next week? SH**

**I don’t know my shifts yet. Are you avoiding me? J**

**No. SH**

**That was abrupt. J**

**That was succinct. You asked a direct question so I gave you a direct answer. I want to see you again, but the timing has been off. If you want to see someone immediately I can refer you to another agent, but he won’t have my intelligence. Then we can try again next week. SH**

John chewed on his lip for a bit, trying to figure out if that was the way he wanted to go. He wanted to see _Sherlock_ again, but they’d only had four dates, and while the last had ended in some pretty fantastic sex it had also ended with them discussing the fact that Sherlock would walk off if John got possessive. Maybe this was another of Sherlock’s tricks? He might want proof that John wasn’t going to become a needy, greedy bastard now that he’d had his cock in Sherlock’s arse. And here was John asking him if he was avoiding him. Well, now Sherlock surely would.

**I guess that will do for now, but I was hoping to get off with someone. Still, some company is better than wanking in my flat alone.  Sure. Send me his digits. J**

“Digits?” John asked himself, groaning as he rubbed his forehead in disgust, “Well, now that I’m trying to sound _hip_ instead of _needy_ he’s just _sure_ to call me back.”

**In that case what about a female Satyr? The fellow I was thinking of tends to wait till he knows you, but Irene will bed you before she knows your name. She’s a Domme, though. SH**

John put a hand over his mouth to prevent himself moaning like a pervert on the tube.

**I could deal with that for a night. J**

**Perfect. Expect a call. SH**

John’s mobile went off.

“Well, that was fast,” John grinned.

“I’m free Tuesday or Saturday. You will meet me Tuesday evening at 7 PM sharp at the entrance to your building. You will dress in your best clothing shy of a tuxedo. You will be clean-shaven and polite. You will not make eye contact with me. You will earn sex. If I enjoy it I will meet you Saturday as well.”

John’s skin bristled. He was turned on, but he also wanted to tell her to fuck off. That wasn’t how any Domme he’d ever met behaved; forceful and full of themselves sure, but no negotiation? No manners? Then again, he didn’t want Sherlock to think he was a jealous boyfriend. Shit.

“Will you answer one question for me?” John asked.

“Go ahead,” She replied.

“Is this a setup?”

Silence. He could practically _feel_ her smirk, “Yes.”

“Tell Sherlock nice try, but I think I’ll take my chances going to a bar and picking someone up myself?”

“Good luck,” Irene replied, “And sorry we couldn’t meet up. I hear you’re quite the shag.”

Her voice had turned to satin but the phone disconnected before John could tell her he’d changed his mind again. He stared at his mobile for a while and then texted Sherlock.

**Nice try. J**

**She really would have had sex with you. SH**

**Yes, but it would have been a LESSON, not a lay. J**

**True. SH**

**Can’t you just trust me not to be clingy and jealous? J**

**I’ve rarely had a reason to trust anyone with anything. SH**

**Yeah, but testing me? This soon on? I mean, I know I’ve been trying to set up another date, but I WAS promised one a week. J**

**I honestly have NOT been avoiding you, nor was my absence a test. That started when you got insecure. If you must know the truth meet me at St. Bart’s. Room 317. We’ll see how much I can trust you. SH**

John got off at the next stop, frantically checked the schedules, swore angrily, and bolted up to the street to hail a cab. He was anxious and fidgeting the whole way to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. He practically fled the cab and bolted to the room in question.

Sherlock was sitting by the bedside of a young woman on a respirator. She was thin with mousy brown hair, neither attractive nor unattractive.

“Sherlock?” John asked softly, clearing his throat as he stepped into the room.

“She attempted suicide. I found her.”

“Oh,” John replied, staring down at the bed, “Are you… are you okay? I thought _you_ were hurt. Maybe took a bullet for your secret date.”

Sherlock didn’t reply so John stepped hesitantly into the room and tried again, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Is she the one who held up one of our dates a while ago?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” John put a hand on his shoulder, “You really seemed to care about her. Will she recover?”

“Unlikely. She’ll be on this machine for the rest of her life, which may be shortened by her parents decision to pull the plug. They’ve not arrived yet. Apparently being brain-dead isn’t a big enough excuse for them to cancel their holiday.”

“So being brain dead runs in the family then? Oh gods, I’m sorry,” John spat out, “I’m _so_ sorry!”

Sherlock chuckled, his eyes finally leaving hers to bathe John in a warm smile even as his eyes filled up with tears, “Thank you. I needed that.”

John replied, “Do you need anything?”

“A proper coffee,” Sherlock frowned, “The stuff here is filth. And my laptop. I’m going _mad_ with boredom.”

“Where’s your laptop at?” John asked, looking around the room.

“Top drawer,” Sherlock flicked a finger at a stand with two drawers in it. John pulled open the top one. Inside was his usual garb with all its pouches. John picked it up but there was nothing beneath it.

“Umm…”

“Smallest pouch,” Sherlock instructed. John opened it and a set of keys fell into his hand, “My address is in my wallet.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock’s bedsit was a bigger dive than John’s was. It was ugly, tiny, cluttered, and instead of a kitchenette he had a counter with a tiny metal sink, a microwave, and a mini-fridge, the latter two plugged into one of the only two outlets in the entire damn place. He had the laptop in a safe because he didn’t trust his landlord. John unlocked the safe and pulled out his laptop, an ipod, and all the cables that went with them. He ignored the piles of money and a small box that looked like it was for jewellery. He did pick up a small book on a whim, check it to make sure it wasn’t a hiding place for more money, and slipped that into the computer bag as well. There didn’t appear to be any more books in the bedsit so he left with what he had and hurried back to the hospital.

Sherlock was asleep when he returned so John laid his things down and sat down to glance through the book he’d grabbed. It was confusing at first, but after a bit he realized it was some sort of religious text. Curious, he continued to read it and was well caught up when Sherlock woke a few hours later.

“You’ll be knackered at work tomorrow,” Sherlock grumbled.

“You mean today,” John replied, “Except’s Tuesday now so I don’t have work. I’m here for my date.”

“I’m afraid you’ll still be tossing off alone,” Sherlock stretched, “And the food here is horrid as well.”

“I can live with that,” John smiled, indicating the book, “Hope you don’t mind. I didn’t know what it was when I grabbed it, just thought you might like something to read.”

“A perfect addition to my boredom,” Sherlock replied with a soft smile, “Liking it so far?”

“The whole nature thing is beautiful,” John smiled, “I’ve never heard anything like it before.”

“Mm, we’re one with the universe,” Sherlock smiled, “Or some odd rot.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t believe _you_.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was in your safe and I’m starting to learn that you avoid long sentences when you fib.”

“Damn, I thought I’d have you on that for a while.”

“So what _do_ you think?” John prodded.

“I think I can see, feel, smell, hear, and taste nature. I think that nature doesn’t stop me from living the way I enjoy, doesn’t forbid me from seeking sexual gratification, doesn’t deny me the comforts of nudity.”

“Makes sense.”

“It does,” Sherlock replied, “As for the worship part, I mostly just _enjoy_. My gods don’t request much of me except that I stay out of their way and pay them respect. As it happens I’m keen on both.”

“Would your gods interfere for her?” John asked, then winced again as he realized how cruel that question was.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Sherlock whispered softly.

John moved his chair closer and took the Faun’s hand in his, squeezing it gently, “What was… is… her name?”

“Molly. Molly Hooper.”

“Hello Molly,” John said softly, putting a hand on her knee for a moment.

XXX

Sherlock stayed at the hospital for a full week, keeping an odd sort of vigil over Molly. John never found out how he convinced the staff to let him stay long after they’d tossed him out. John stopped in on his way back from work to bring him food and drink each day, occasionally getting a kiss or two in when Sherlock was in need of a cuddle.

Finally he came one day and the room was empty. He thought for a moment, sent a few texts, asked at the desk, and got no answers. Then he recalled Sherlock’s book. Their methods about death. It all made sense.

John hurried down to the morgue and there he found Sherlock sitting on the ground in front of the gurney drawers. He had his arms wrapped around his knees and his head on his forearms. He looked so alone and small despite his height and dark curls. John stepped forward and sank down to sit beside him. He didn’t look up, but he did speak.

“My other Companions know too,” Sherlock stated softly, “They stopped by. Each of them once.”

“Oh?” John asked, “Sorry I missed them.”

“No you’re not.”

“Nah, not really. They don’t interest me. Unless you have another threesome in mind?”

“Not really. Too many elbows.”

“Yeah, I thought the same.”

“They didn’t come back a second time, and they didn’t bring me nice things.”

“Did you give them the keys to your bedsit, too?”

“I tried. Two of them told me to go myself. One told the nurses I was somehow staying overnight. Another said he’d go, but I changed my mind because I could see a greedy look in his eyes. I don’t use banks, you know. Don’t trust them. It’s a weakness, though.”

“Yeah, I saw the cash. I didn’t take any, for what it’s worth.”

“I know.”

“What now? You have to stay until she’s interned?”

“It’s our tradition,” Sherlock nodded.

“She’s one of the ones you were in love with?” John asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied softly.

“So did she start following your… belief?”

“No,” Sherlock replied softly, “She was a devout atheist.”

“So why keep your…”

“For me,” Sherlock stated.

“You’ll sit down here until they cremate or bury her…”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied sharply, “Death rituals are _not_ for those who are dead, they are for those who survive. This eases my pain at her loss.”

“You still have the other-“

“That’s not how poly works!” Sherlock shouted into his arms, “There’s no replacing! No loving one more than the other! Don’t you understand _she’s gone?!_ ”

“I’m sorry,” John replied softly, “I’m so sorry, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s shoulder’s shook and John slipped his arms around him, pulling him against his chest so the Buck could weep in his arms. Sherlock sobbed brokenly against him until he fell asleep and John could lower him down to rest with his head on John’s lap. Only then did he make a call in to his boss.

“Sarah? Hi, it’s John. Listen, I know I’m scheduled to work tomorrow and the day after, but I need the next few days off. It’s just that my boyfriend lost… his mum. His mum died and he’s pretty freaked out. They’re Jewish and they have that whole thing where they don’t leave the house, but he’s got no other family in the area so I just _really_ need to stay with him. You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t… yeah. Thank you. Sure. No problem. Bye.”

John shut off his mobile to conserve battery power and lat his head fall against the cold metal wall. He’d slept in more horrid positions before this day. He would manage. 


	5. Chapter 5

John stayed by Sherlock’s side constantly, despite the Faun telling him repeatedly he could leave. He did leave, but only to fetch food, drink, and a pot for Sherlock to piss in. Well, a bedpan. Which he then emptied out for him because Sherlock’s traditions said he couldn’t even leave to _relieve_ himself. Thankfully John had been thru med school and Sherlock was completely shameless or it might have been awful.

The mortuary staff worked around Sherlock or told him to budge when they couldn’t giving him soft smiles and fond glances from time to time. That was how John learned that Molly had worked here at the same mortuary as a lab tech and had in fact killed herself here. She’d used chemicals to gas herself in one of the chambers, sending poor Sherlock a text as to what she was doing and where she was. He’d alerted authorities and bolted to her side, finding her himself a few seconds before the hospital staff came barrelling in. Apparently no one had believed him because she’d sent an email to them telling them she was on the roof. She’d wanted Sherlock to find her, the poor sod. Her former co-workers were mourning her as well, but in their own way, and they respected Sherlock’s methods.

Finally it was time, and Sherlock rose on protesting joints to follow Molly’s body bag out the door. She was to be cremated. Her parents wanted the ashes shipped to them. They had returned long enough to tell them to pull the plug and then left for places unknown after signing off on all the paperwork. Sherlock’s request that he have some of her ashes had been firmly denied. They were apparently unaware of his role in her life, and he didn’t enlighten them. He felt they’d just make his stay worse. John accompanied Sherlock to the crematorium where they both stayed to watch her laid out on the tray. Sherlock said a soft prayer over her body in Greek before she was wheeled in. They stepped out into the hallway and Sherlock took a deep breath as if he were releasing years of pent up sorrow.

“Hungry?” Sherlock asked.

“Starved,” John replied.

“I know this great little Thai place on…”

“That’s it? We’re leaving?” John asked in surprise as Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his neck.

“Well, I’d prefer a shower first, but there isn’t one here and the restaurant is on the way back to mine so…”

“But if you wait we might be able to convince the bloke in there to give us some of her ashes.”

“She’ll take hours to bake,” Sherlock shrugged, “I’m starved and filthy. Also I bribed him already. He’s mailing them to me.”

“Oh. Okay. So, food?”

“And then a very _long_ shower.”

XXX

“You’ve spilled something on your sweatshirt,” John slurred at Sherlock, who dabbed at it in frustration.

It was snowing out and below freezing, and apparently that was enough incentive for Sherlock to wear clothes. He’d bought a simple grey sweatshirt with a hood at the nearest store and struggled into it with John’s help. Sherlock gave the offending article a scowl and dabbed at it with a napkin, quickly going back to his food, but John frowned at the stain as it _grew_ rather than diminished. Then another appeared just across from it. And another below it.

“Ummm, Sherlock? Are you okay? You’re sort of… leaking?” John asked, “It’s not blood… the hell is that? How much of this sake have I had?”

Sherlock glanced down and groaned in frustration, sitting back to stare at _six_ stains that had emerged across his chest.

“I’m _lactating_. Damn it all to hell!”

“What?” John blinked through his drunken state, “I thought that only happened-”

“Before I go on Rut, yes. It’s a bit late in the season, but it does sometimes kick in after someone dear passes away. I considered Molly a mate so now my body is panicking.”

Sherlock folded up his napkin and tossed it onto his plate, “Sorry to leave you with the check, but I’ve got to dash.”

“What? Why?” John asked in surprise.

“Got to go lock myself up. I’ll be mad for sex in a few hours.”

John’s eyebrows raised and Sherlock shook his head, “No, you really _won’t_ like it. I’ll probably insist on topping.”

“Oh, yeah, no thanks.”

“Understandable,” Sherlock smirked, “You’d need your arse trained. Gotta dash. Thanks for everything. See you after I’m done being rabid for sex.”

“Wait!” John argued, tossing a few bills down and chasing after him, “Hang on a tic! At least let me see you safely home!”

“I’m not going home.”

“To your other ‘mate’ then?”

“Nope, to the reservation. I’ll sate my Rut with my own kind. It’s safer and more fulfilling. Sorry, but humans can’t keep up with us for a Rut.”

Sherlock gave John a quick kiss at the door and hailed a cab out of thin air.

“Will you be okay?” John asked, hurrying after him, “Sherlock, what if you go on before you get there?”

“I’ve got time,” Sherlock replied, slipping into the cab and then glancing back out, “Although… if I have time perhaps… shower sex?”

“With me?” John asked, his voice squeaking.

“We do both need a bathe and you’ve been through a hell of a lot to not get a leg over afterwards.”

“That’s crude, but I’m in no position to argue,” John nodded, “Budge over. We’ll go to mine. Yours is a dung heap.”

“Spoken like a true poet.”

Shower sex was a lot more awkward than John had been led to believe, especially with a very tall Satyr and a very pissed human. They ended up just tossing Sherlock off once in the shower, scrubbing up as fast as possible, then scrambling back to his bedsit where Sherlock pinned him to the mattress and became shockingly savage. John found himself pinned beneath Sherlock while he rutted against him frantically, their slick bodies moving in tandem as John gripped his arse and moaned in pleasure. Sherlock’s lightly furred belly was driving John wild, and he found himself spilling long before Sherlock. He ended up whimpering in agony as the Buck continued to press against him until he came with a strangled cry and bit down on John’s shoulder viciously.

John lay still as Sherlock lay heavily on top of him, panting and shaking a bit with the force of his desire. Sherlock groaned and John detangled an arm to reach up and pet his silken curls.

“You okay?”

“John, I’m sorry but I’ve gotten milk all over you.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not, it’s _disgusting_.”

“It’s _fine_. I like milk. Sit up, I want to try that whole lactation kink thing.”

Sherlock sat up, straddling John’s thighs, and John saw that he _was_ smeared with milk and come, but there was far more of the latter than the former. John sat up as well and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist, leaning in to lap at a nipple. The sweet substance teased his tongue so John leaned in and took it into his mouth.

“Ow! Not like that!” Sherlock scolded, “You’ve got to suck more on the breast around it than the nipple. You’ll chaff me!”

“Sorry.”

John took more of Sherlock’s… well, breast was a poor term seeing as he barely had a handful to speak of, even swollen a bit with milk. John suckled and milk flew into his mouth in a sharp squirt. He jumped a bit but then took another drag. Sherlock moaned throatily and John reached up to tease another nipple. It squirted into his hand so he set about massaging the tissue behind it.

“Oh gods, that feels so good,” Sherlock panted, “They’re so _cramped_.”

John didn’t reply, he just kept suckling until Sherlock’s teat stopped filling his mouth with the fatty substance. Then he moved to the one he’d been massaging and started massaging two others while Sherlock whimpered and rolled his hips in John’s lap.

“Oh gods,” Sherlock keened, “You’re ridiculously good at this.”

John wasn’t about to complain. The milk was delicious and having Sherlock wriggling and whimpering in his lap was addictive. He wasn’t sure if this did anything for _him_ sexually, but perhaps when he wasn’t satisfied it would. In the meantime it clearly did _quite_ a bit for Sherlock, who was hard and leaking against John’s stomach. John finished off the fourth but couldn’t reach the final two nipples near Sherlock’s stomach. Instead he rolled the Satyr over started jerking him off while suckling on the bottom one. Sherlock’s cock was next to his ear, so he turned his head to give it a kiss before switching to the last teat. Sherlock was panting and bucking his hips up, his cries becoming more sharp and frantic with each tug of John’s hand. Then it was happening. John had just pulled off the last nipple and given it a loving flick of his tongue when Sherlock let out a shout and came so hard his hips jerked wildly. John sat up and watched him pulse across his hard nipples in awe. Sherlock was wrecked, his lips trembling, his eyes shut, and his body completely lax.

John smothered a belch and patted his stomach. It was distended from all the milk he’d gorged on.

“Well, if it were me I’d choose you to mate with,” John teased, “That was damn good.”

Then the reality of the situation set in and John felt his face pale. He’d just drunk Sherlock’s _milk_. It was no different than sucking him off! He’d just exposed himself to all manor of possible disease!

“Hush,” Sherlock said softly, “I’m probably clean.”

“Probably,” John groaned, rubbing at his face, “I can’t believe I just had unprotected sex for the first time in my life. I’m a fucking _adult_! And a doctor!”

“I should have stopped you,” Sherlock mumbled, “You weren’t exactly sober.”

“Yeah, you should have!” John snapped.

“Shhh,” Sherlock scolded lightly, “You’re killing my buzz. That was gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” John sighed, “Don’t you have somewhere to be, though?”

“Bloody hell,” Sherlock groaned, “I forgot. You were so _erotic_ …”

“I made you forget your impending rut? That’s flattering.”

“John, I need to hurry,” Sherlock struggled up on shaking legs, “I’ll be impossible to resist once it starts! I’ll need sex constantly for three to six hours!”

“I’ve already exposed myself, stay and let me help you through it.”

“Are you _mad_?” Sherlock asked, “What part of ‘I’ll want you to bottom’ did you not understand? You won’t stay hard long enough, I’ll end up _having_ to top!”

“I’m game,” John said, then pulled out his drawer and held up a buttplug, “I’ve been practicing. I figured you might want to some day and after I couldn’t bring you off a third time before…”

Sherlock grabbed John and tossed him down on the bed, snogging him hungrily as he snatched the plug from his hand. He knelt up and searched the drawer for the lube.

“Turn over. It’s easier that way. Tell me the _second_ it hurts, do you understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” John agreed, rolling over eagerly and presenting his bottom.

“I’ll try to avoid your prostate directly after you’ve climaxed, but I promise nothing. John. This could be dangerous with my control on edge like this _._ Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” John grinned over his shoulder, “Let’s do this.”

Sherlock smiled softly and stroked a hand over John’s bare bottom. He did _not_ start preparing him.

“Damn it,” John sighed, “You’re testing me again, aren’t you?”

“Yes and no,” Sherlock replied.

“You know you’re as damaged as I am, right?” John snapped.

“If we do this I must call in some help,” Sherlock informed him, “I’m serious about how difficult you will find this, John. And whenever you can’t meet my needs I will not just be unfulfilled I will be in _pain_.”

“Okay,” John nodded, “Give me that thing. I’ll prep myself while you call for someone.”

Sherlock nodded and stepped up to retrieve his phone from his belongings. John watched him pace anxiously as he made phone call after phone call.

“None of your boyfriends and girlfriends available?” John asked angrily.

“I wasn’t calling them,” Sherlock replied, “I was calling graduates.”

“Graduates,” John scoffed, shaking his head, “Graduates.”

“I think it’s best I call Lestrade.”

“Another Satyr?” John asked, guessing by the name.

“No,” Sherlock replied, “That’s his last name. For some annoying reason I can never remember his first name. It’s some dull thing.”

“Right,” John snickered, “Unlike John.”

“Quite,” Sherlock agreed, not catching that John was being sarcastic.

_Maybe in his culture John is exotic or something._

“Lestrade, it’s Sherlock. Yes, dreadful about Molly. Thanks for stopping by. I know how difficult it is for you to get off of work. Thing is her death and the time of year are working against me a bit. I’m going on Rut and I haven’t gotten to the reservation on time.”

Sherlock was silent a moment, pacing the room with that sway of his hips that all Satyr had. Lestrade must have been giving him quite the lecture, but John couldn’t hear anything and Sherlock’s face just looked bored.

“Yes, that’s it,” Sherlock stated, “I know. Yes. His name is John, and he’s quite charming. He’s been with me unprotected but no one else. Yes, very funny. Half of London, indeed. _Fine_. I’ll wear them, but you’ll have to be the one to get them on me. You know I’m barely conscious throughout this.”

Sherlock hung up and turned to John with a small smile, “He’s on his way over. My government chum pulled some strings to get him off shift. He’s been working a murder for the last month and it’s rather serious, but he wouldn’t miss this for the world. He’s been hoping to share a Rut with me for ages.”

“Yet he was the _last_ one you called,” John pointed out, “If he doesn’t treat you right…”

“He treats me fine,” Sherlock snapped, “I’m no blushing babe, John. Lestrade is a very busy man and his work saves lives. I don’t disturb him unless it’s an emergency.”

“Fair enough,” John put up his hand, “I just want the best for you.”

“Trust me,” Sherlock smirked, “He’s the best.”

John pushed down a bit of jealousy and they spent some time snuggling while they waited for Lestrade. John moaned as Sherlock worked his cock back to life by pumping the plug in and out of his arse. He’d worn it a few times but not really played with it, now he was being tuned like a violin and he _loved_ it. He was also feeling decidedly soft and pliant, and he doubted it was because he was about to bottom.

“I’m… I’m usually Dom,” John panted.

“There’s no shame in switching off. I usually prefer submission myself, but I _like_ pushing you around.”

“What about this Lestrade fellow?” John asked.

A rap sounded at the door and Sherlock rose, leaving John panting on the bed, “You can ask him yourself.”

“That was fast,” John replied in surprise, “I thought you’d go off before he got here.”

“So did I. He must have turned the lights on,” Sherlock chuckled, “I’m worth it!”

Sherlock threw open the door, grabbed a salt-and-pepper haired man by the front of his shirt, and dragged him into the room. He slammed the door and shoved the man against it. John sat up, expecting to see them snog passionately, but the man broke Sherlock’s grasp, performed a quick manoeuvre, and got beneath his arm. Sherlock was on the floor with an arm pinned behind his back in seconds, face down and arse up just like John liked him.

“Morning, Lock,” The man growled in a gravely voice.

“Morning Detective Inspector,” Sherlock purred, his knees pushing up and his tail lifting invitingly.

“You’re looking fuckable today.”

“Why thank you, Detective Inspector,” Sherlock wriggled a bit, his cheeks going red beneath the light fur on his face.

“Damn,” John laughed, “We’ve only done vanilla so far. I’m going to need to step up my game.”

Lestrade’s head flew up and he gave John a crooked smile and a saucy wink, “He’s not told me about you, but if he trusts you than you must be fun.”

“I’ll do my best,” John nodded, “All about keeping him satisfied, right?”

Lestrade stood up, leaving Sherlock sprawled on the floor. He walked with confidence and power but had a charming sparkle in his eye that spoke of excitement. John found himself grinning from ear to ear as the man approached him. He put his hand out and John shook it firmly.

“John Watson. Doctor.”

“Gregory Lestrade. Detective Inspector.”

“You don’t seem the type Sherlock frequents.”

“Neither do you,” Lestrade replied with a grin.

John’s confidence and smile faltered and his hand moved to his exposed shoulder without his bidding. He’d forgotten. He’d felt so alive in Sherlock’s arms that he’d completely forgotten about his damned shoulder and the scar that stretched across it from both back and front.

Lestrade nodded to it, “Looks painful. Army?”

“Yeah,” John nodded.

“You must be a brave man,” Lestrade said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, “We’re about to be _very_ intimate _very_ quickly. I’m not sure I’m that brave.”

John’s smile returned. Damn, but he was good!

“We were just suggested I might be a switch,” John replied, “But you should know I’m usually Dom and a top.”

“You’ll have to bottom at some point with him. You ready for that?” Lestrade asked.

John lifted one leg and pulled a cheek aside to show the plug winking there. Lestrade grinned and John gave him a saucy wink to go with his arse.

“It’ll be my first time, but I’m game.”

“I brought condoms that fit him,” Lestrade replied, “I insist on them, but you don’t have to use them if you don’t want to.”

John thought of all that come leaking out of Radar and shivered, “I’m good. I was already stupid with him, I might as well go full out.”

“Yeah,” Lestrade chuckled, “I’ve been trying to convince him to start using rubbers with other people so I could bareback him for years. I’m a bit jealous, to be honest.”

“I’m usually not so stupid,” John confessed, laying back again as Lestrade hesitantly moved a hand over John’s calf. The hand crept up and John wriggled a bit in anticipation, “He’s throws me for a loop.”

“He’s like that,” Lestrade replied, his voice deep and intimate, “You got hard stops?”

“Dom me, but don’t beat me. I’m game to have sex with you too, but let’s limit my stupid and involve condoms.”

“Fair enough. I’d like to kiss you now. May I?”

“Oh. Gods. Yes,” John replied firmly.

Lestrade leaned over but their lips had barely touched before Sherlock let out a needy, almost animalistic sound. Lestrade sat up and turned to him and John wriggled up onto his elbows. Sherlock was on the floor fisting his hard cock with a look of agony on his face. The room had taken on a scent that John was wholly unfamiliar with. It had a coppery tint to it, but didn’t smell like blood. It didn’t smell like female arousal either, but it was closer to that scent. Lestrade walked around Sherlock’s shaking body and breathed in the scent as he tugged his trousers and pants down. A wide, slightly curved erection was revealed amidst a nest of black hair. He knelt behind Sherlock, slipped on a condom, and thrust into him in one go.

John struggled to his feet in alarm. Sherlock hadn’t been stretched! However the Satyr didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead he was pushing back on Lestrade’s cock while moaning wantonly.

“Intro is over,” Lestrade panted, “He’s going to need us both for a while. I suggest you wear a condom when you top just to keep you going for as long as possible. I brought the thick kind. Ribbed for _his_ pleasure.”

Lestrade gave him a wink and John scrambled out of the bed. He kept the plug in to keep himself stretched as he knelt down to grip Sherlock’s upper arms.

“Let’s move him to the bed. I’m not exactly spritely, you know?”

“Good call,” Lestrade nodded. He pressed in deep, gripped Sherlock’s hips, and helped John tug the whimpering Satyr to his feet.

They moved him slowly to the bed where John tugged Sherlock on top of his body as he collapsed forward. He ended up being nuzzled by a needy Buck while Lestrade straddled John’s legs and ploughed into Sherlock at an angle that must have had him seeing stars. Sherlock howled with pleasure and began to shove back on Lestrade’s cock while John worked his shaft firmly.

“Oh gods,” John panted, “I read their scent had an effect on us but I’m so hard it fucking _hurts!_ ”

“Hold off,” Lestrade insisted, “You’ll need it later.”

“Fuck,” John groaned, giving himself a squeeze before quickly pulling his hand away. He didn’t think he could resist tossing off like mad if he kept his hand nearby. He worked Sherlock’s cock until he came with a wild cry, but the Satyr wasn’t nearly through.

Lestrade groaned and somehow managed to _not_ blow his load there and then. He continued to pound into Sherlock, playing with his tail, ears, and eventually hauling him up by his horns as he’d instructed John to do previously. Sherlock was making noises that he hadn’t with John and it only made him work his lube-slicked hand over the Buck’s shaft with more resolve. He _would_ wring those wild sounds from his lover! Sherlock sounded feral, reduced to a primal state of growls, grunts, and the occasional bleat. He might have been speaking Satyrese, but John couldn’t be sure. His eyes were glazed and he didn’t respond when spoken to. John suckled on a nipple again and Sherlock emptied himself a second time, causing Lestrade let out a frustrated yet relieved moan, stilling as he found his own release.

“Tha’s it,” Lestrade gasped, “I’m done. Tag, you’re it.”

John scrambled around while Sherlock snarled and grabbed at them frantically. Lestrade grabbed the lube and started fingering himself while John fought Sherlock’s grabbing digits off and thrust into his wet hole. He was almost sorry he didn’t have a condom on because the heat and wet combined was enough to make him want to come that instant. At the same time this was the first time he’d fucked someone unsheathed and he wasn’t sure he could go back now. He was burying himself into Sherlock at top speed and had to reign himself in despite his approving sounds. Lestrade was kneeling at the side of John’s bed, working his arse open while licking at Sherlock’s rock hard cock that he’d somehow managed to wrestle into a condom.

John moaned at the erotic sight. He was no stranger to dominant people behaving submissively, not that performing fellatio on someone was necessarily submissive, but he’d not been prepared for the sight of a powerful figure like Lestrade working Sherlock’s cock over. The Satyr was apparently all for it and let out all manor of approving noises while John plundered his backside.

Sherlock’s climax took John by surprise and only quickly pulling out and gripping the base of his cock kept him from coming explosively in Sherlock’s clenching body. Sherlock roared his disapproval, hand flying back to snatch at John in an attempt to catch his hip and pull him back in, but John didn’t have thick hair on his hips to grip him by so he only got a few minor scratches. John counted backwards from ten while Lestrade scrambled up beneath him to calm his ire. Sherlock thrust into Greg’s body and John swore as he lifted himself up with both hands on Lestrade’s hips and began to fuck him fast and hard.

“Gods!” John gasped, “You okay?”

“Fuck! Yes!” Greg gasped.

John had a time getting his cock back into Sherlock, eventually having to grab his horns and tug them until he went still and whimpered while John slid back into him. Then he was just kneeling there watching in shock as Sherlock leaned forward a bit so he could both take and be taken. John stared at the sight of his glistening cock vanishing into Sherlock’s body over and over again. That tail begged to be touched so John teased it, reaching around to squeeze a bit of milk from his nipple. It sprayed on Greg’s body and the man moaned a bit so John took that up with each, chasing them around as Sherlock’s body writhed in pleasure. The Satyr let out a wild cry and John clung to him as all three bodies stilled as John and Sherlock’s orgasms left them shaking with pleasure.

“Oh fucking hell,” John gasped, collapsing on the bed beside Lestrade.

Lestrade grimaced at him, “Get off your lily white arse and show him your bottom before I get raw!”

John scrambled to obey, pulling the plug free, “Come on soldier, fuck me!”

John spread his cheeks but Sherlock ignored him.

“Damn it,” Lestrade growled, “He’s too far gone. Try making that noise he made when he wanted us to fuck him.”

John wracked his brain and then made a few whimpering and keening noises. Sherlock’s hips stilled and Lestrade slid free as quickly as he could. Sherlock whined and bolted for John, pressing into him quickly.

John swore as fire followed in the wake of Sherlock’s saturated cock. The plug had been the sort recommended for those bottoming for Satyr, but he’d still not been prepared for the _force_ behind it. John shut his eyes and gripped the pillow as Sherlock pounded him fast and hard. He was vaguely aware of tears running down his cheeks, but they became far more obvious when Lestrade gently wiped them away. Soft lips found his, a bit of stubble reminding John that there was another man in the room, and then he was moaning softly as hands guided him into a better position. Without his prostate being brutilized John was in far less discomfort and able to simply kneel there and take it. Sherlock stilled and came again, but it was more than the condom could handle and it spilled over the edge. Sherlock pulled free and yanked the offending article off, snarling at it as if it were a snake invading his bed instead of a prophylactic, and plunged back into John bare. His seed slicked the way and John moaned at the thought of it spilling out of him.

“Come inside me,” John moaned, “ _Please_ come inside me.”

“You’re definitely going to get your wish,” Lestrade grinned.

“Fuck,” John gasped, “I’ve not gone soft this whole damn time.”

“Yeah, me neither. Must be the smell in the air. It’s supposed to effect us a bit.”

So saying Lestrade pushed on John’s shoulders, putting Sherlock’s cock back in line with his prostate. John swore and was soon throwing himself back on Sherlock with wild abandon as stars danced behind his eyes. He could hear himself shouting something but couldn’t properly hear himself or control his mouth. It wasn’t until Sherlock pulled _him_ up by his hair that Lestrade silenced his words with a frantic kiss. John grabbed at him, tugging aggressively at his hair but Lestrade wasn’t having it. He pulled Sherlock’s hands free and directed them to Sherlock’s curls where he tugged and teased him. Lestrade was working his way down John’s neck, biting and licking as he twisted a nipple. John shouted in shock and Sherlock came hard inside of him at the same moment John spilled himself across Lestrade’s abdomen. John gasped at the feel of Sherlock pulsing inside of him and briefly caught himself babbling about his arse leaking come before Lestrade silenced him with another breathtaking kiss.

John moaned into the man’s lips and then whimpered as he pulled away to scramble around Sherlock’s body. John slipped free and Sherlock toppled forward. They scrambled to roll him over, Lestrade propping his legs up by grasping him beneath each knee. John slipped behind Lestrade and slipped a finger inside his entrance to finger his prostate while the frantic man pressed inside of Sherlock again. A glance at Sherlock over his shoulder showed him smiling in a tired sort of way, but he was still very much awake and idly stroking his still-hard shaft. John took to kissing along Lestrade’s back as he bent forward and slowed his motions to make himself last.

“Fuck,” Lestrade groaned, “This is unnatural. It’s gonna fucking _hurt_ when I come.”

“A bit,” John grunted, “But in the most _amazing_ way.”

Lestrade groaned, “I’m not into pain.”

“I didn’t think I was until today,” John grinned, leaving off his prostate to crawl around and snog Sherlock where he lay. Those full lips melted against his and he moaned into his mouth before moving down to lap at his teats again. They were salty with his release and John found himself licking it up greedily. Sherlock whimpered and John was surprised by a sudden splatter against the side of his head.

“Fucking hell, yeah!” Lestrade shouted as if he were cheering on a match instead of fucking a couple of blokes during a Rut.

A few more hot drops hit John’s hair and he giggled against Sherlock’s semen-soaked belly. Lestrade let out a cry fit for the battlefield and then stilled as he came hard inside of Sherlock’s body. There was a knock on the door but neither of them were going to respond to it.

“John. Move,” Lestrade panted. John lifted his head up, wiping at the mess that had dripped onto his face, and Lestrade simply collapsed on top of Sherlock. He lay there, panting so hard that he was wheezing a bit.

John worriedly checked his pulse, pupils, and staggered to the sink to get him some water. There was another knock on the door.

“Not taking visitors!” John shouted, “Come back tomorrow!”

“Police! Open up! There’s been a report of a disturbance!”

“Oh fuck,” John grumbled, “Just a bit of fun, officers! We’re not decent! Give us a tick!”

“Open the door or we kick it in! Now!”

John threw a blanket over Lestrade and wrapped his housecoat around himself at the same time he unlatched the door. A PC shoved him aside as he stepped into the room, eyes narrowed at the sight of the display before him. Lestrade was still heaving and panting, and was in fact trying to get the heavy blanket off of him.

“Hang on, Greg,” John called, “I’m getting him water. He’s dehydrated.”

John hurried to the sink and filled a cup from the tap, hurrying over to them. He helped Lestrade lift his head enough to take a few sips.

“The hell is going on in here?”

“Our friend went on Rut,” John replied, “Greg, you with me?”

“Yeah,” Greg panted, slipping to one side, “Get him some water. He’s worse off than I am.”

“I’m on it,” John nodded, limping back to the sink.

“You injured?” The PC asked, his parter standig in the doorway and staring in alarm.

“A few months back,” John replied, “I’m fine. You guys probably shouldn’t stay. I don’t think he’s done and the smell drives people nuts.”

The PC’s adjusted their erections and slowly shifted towards the door, “Just try to keep it down.”

“Yeah, sure,” John replied, downing a glass of water and then forcing some on Sherlock. Once the PC’s left he bolted the door and collapsed beside Sherlock to sleep as much as he could before round two kicked in.

John woke to the feel of someone pumping in and out of his body, but when he opened his eyes Sherlock’s met him from beside him. Sherlock smiled and John gave him a heated grin. He was getting hard fast so he lifted his hips a bit off of the pillow that he was propped on.

“I had Gavin while he was sleeping,” Sherlock winked at John, “He didn’t get to finish and was a bit put out so he pounced on you.”

“Gavin?” John panted, looking over his shoulder in alarm.

“It’s _Greg_ ,” Greg replied, pounding into John harder. He looked completely wrecked and right on the edge, “Fucking hell, you’re tight! How the fuck are you so tight?”

“Virgin a few hours ago,” John winked, “Like my wet arsehole, do you?”

John reached below to toss himself off, but Sherlock was pushing at him, “Shift up, I want to suck you off.”

John moaned, motivated to move with those words, and shifted up to let Sherlock squirm beneath him. The Satyr’s legs were hanging off the bed, but his cock was completely limp when John glanced at it. Sherlock swallowed him down and John moaned in bliss. His cock was a bit chaffed, but he was still game for a bit of head. Sherlock swallowed him down like a pro and Greg apparently had a guidance system on his prick that let him unerringly know where John’s prostate was. He was giving him the buggering of his life, so John let himself tell them so with every grunt and moan. Sherlock moaned a bit in support and John came down his throat with a sigh of relief and a full-body shiver. Greg groaned and John felt him pulse inside. He regretted the condom, but he knew it was a necessity. He’d taken enough risks recently. They ended up in a very, _very_ tight pile trying to sleep off their exhaustion.


	6. Chapter 6

John woke up wrapped tightly in strong arms, and sighed happily at the spicy scent that surrounded him. He had no idea how he’d gone for so long without the strength of a man against his body. Not that he was swearing off women, but this definitely had its appeal. Lestrade snored behind him and he shifted a bit, swearing as his arse started leaking out sticky come.

“Ew. Gross. Bathroom. Now,” John grumbled, staggering to his feet. His legs were rubbery and he nearly fell.

Then he caught sight of Sherlock. He was sitting at John’s desk typing away at his laptop.

“How did you… it’s password protected!” John stammered.

“Mmm, not really. Afghanistan? Come now, John. The only person that’s protecting it from are street thugs with education too poor to spell. Anyone who spends ten minutes with you could guess that.”

“What are you doing on it?” John sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

“I got an idea for a story. I’m typing it out and emailing it to myself.”

“Oh, well… I’m going to shower. Did you want to join me?”

“Mm,” Sherlock replied, “Can’t. Have to get this out of my brain _now_. Besides, I woke up hours ago and showered.”

Lestrade was stretching into consciousness, his smile for John tender and sleepy.

“I’ll join you, if you want,” Lestrade purred.

“Yeah, okay,” John grinned, but a split second later he questioned why he’d invited him. He really just wanted to get _clean_ , not have half a shower with a bloke he barely know but had just had a one-off with.

Lestrade didn’t notice his hesitation. He was busy scratching his arse. John grinned a bit. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all?

“Le’s go,” Lestrade yawned, accepting the towel John held out for him.

They showered slowly, washing each other thoroughly- more thoroughly than John ever dared to do in the shower with someone else. Lestrade actually helped him clean his arse out of all that come without hurting himself, which he was more than grateful for since his arse was sore from all that hard buggering. Lestrade had brought some cream that was safe internally to soothe their ruined rectums.

“I’m sorry you have to do this,” John stammered after his body made a series of rude noises in Lestrade’s face while he knelt behind him cleaning him out.

“I _don’t_ have to do this. I want to. We had something yesterday, John. It was hot as hell and I’m going to take care of you afterwards because I appreciate you.”

John put his head down on his arms, hiding his flushing face from Lestrade’s words, “I think I get why Sherlock loves you.”

Silence. Lestrade’s fingers slipped free and he stood up.

“He said that?”

“Hm?” John looked over his shoulder at Lestrade. His face was twisted in pain and he looked almost tortured.

“Sherlock told you he loves me? Or you assumed?”

“He told me,” John frowned, “He didn’t tell you?”

“No. Never. I’ve said it plenty of times, but he’s never said it back.”

“Well he told me. Sings your praises, even. You’re the co-star of his books.”

“I knew that part,” Lestrade wiped some water from his face, “He’s pretty good at singing his own praises. You mind returning the favour?”

“No problem,” John replied.

Lestrade turned around and braced his hands against the wall. John knelt on the floor, his leg protesting angrily, but he was determined to help Lestrade out.

“You probably don’t need much care here,” John muttered.

“Just check for tearing, wash some of the lube out, and put that cream inside me. Shouldn’t take long. Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem,” John replied, “I’ve done this sort of thing before. Doctor.”

“Oh, yeah. You mentioned. Mmm, that feels good. Must still be effected by Sherlock’s hormones,” Lestrade chuckled.

John chuckled, “I’m spent and then some. You’ve got quite the refractory period.”

“Nah, I’m not going anywhere with it. Just enjoying the sparks. It’s going to be _days_ before anything besides creams touch my abused bits.”

“Same here,” John chuckled, “No wonder Sherlock takes a few days off after his Rut.”

“I’m tempted to do the same, but I’ve got a madman on the loose.”

“Tough job,” John replied.

“You could be of use,” Lestrade replied, “We could use someone with military background.”

John winced. Lestrade hadn’t seen him walk before they’d had sex and afterwards he’d been too ashamed to grab his cane. He had no idea that John was an invalid. He probably thought the limp was from the hard buggering they’d had.

“I’m… ah… I was invalided home.”

“I figured from the shoulder wound,” Lestrade replied as John straightened up, “Your movement didn’t look too limited. I bet you could pass physical if you were willing to push yourself. You army blokes usually are.”

Lestrade gave him a wink over his shoulder and then turned to slip his arms around John’s waist. John was surprised by the kiss, especially about how deep it was. He melted against the taller man and let himself be snogged stupid. The water was turning cold so they shivered and exited, drying off hurriedly before heading back to Sherlock. John’s limp was _worse_.

“You okay?” Lestrade asked as they entered the flat.

In answer, John grabbed his cane from the corner and leaned on it heavily, avoiding Lestrade’s gaze as he headed over to where Sherlock was typing away like mad on his laptop.

“How’s the story going?” John asked, carefully ignoring Lestrade when he stepped forward. 

“Brilliant!” Sherlock exclaimed, “I’m looking at another best seller! I’m sure of it!”

“Find hours of hot sex inspiring, do you?” John chuckled, kissing his temple.

“And then some,” Sherlock purred, “You were marvellous, by the way. You both were.”

“Thanks,” Lestrade muttered, “John, can I talk to you?”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I said it’s fine. It’s all fine,” John ran his fingers through his hair anxiously.

Sherlock turned, a frown on his face, “I’d rather hoped you two would get on enough to see each other regularly. What went wrong?”

“I put my foot in my mouth,” Lestrade sighed.

“He didn’t,” John replied with a frown, avoiding both their gazes, “I should remake the bed. It needs the washing of a decade. I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do, in fact.”

“I think we’re being dismissed,” Sherlock stated.

“Too right,” Lestrade muttered, “John, I really am sorry.”

“I’m not,” John looked up from where he was messing with the blankets, “Yesterday was fantastic. Best sex I’ve ever had.”

“I wasn’t talking about the sex and you know it,” Lestrade replied, “And I _do_ want to see you again.”

“What for?” John asked, eyes darting away and then stubbornly moving back, “I’m basically an old man.”

John tapped the cane on the floor and Sherlock let out a frustrated growl, jerking it from his hands.

“Do you have _any idea_ how many times you’ve walked around without this?!” Sherlock raged, standing up and waving it in the air. Lestrade narrowly avoided getting clocked, “It’s in your head, John!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” John shouted back, “Give it here!”

“Your leg is _fine!”_

 _“Damn my leg!”_ John raged.

Lestrade stepped forward and jerked John against him, pulling him into a tight hug. John resisted at first, struggling with him until they both nearly fell, but when he tried to pull back his arm to give him a punch to the kidneys Sherlock grabbed both his arms. They restrained him while he flailed and swore angrily until he wore himself down.

“For an invalid you just put up a hell of a fight,” Lestrade pointed out, easing him down into a sitting position on the bed, “I’m sorry I upset you, but I don’t want you taking this out on Sherlock.”

“I’m calm,” John replied, “I’m sorry, too.”

“I should go,” Lestrade replied, “I’m clearly not wanted here.”

“No,” John protested weakly.

“Lestrade, don’t go,” Sherlock called, “Please, we want you to stay. John?”

“Yeah,” John nodded, “I’m sorry I lost it for a minute there. Bit of a wild week, you know?”

“Yeah, I imagine,” Lestrade replied.

“I want you two to date,” Sherlock stated.

John and Lestrade gave each other wide-eyed looks.

“I’ve graduated?” John replied miserably, “That’s it? We’re through?”

“What? No!” Sherlock scoffed, “Are you mad? You’re still _far_ from graduating.”

“Mine crept up on me, to be honest,” Lestrade chuckled.

“You’re graduated?” John asked in surprise, “I thought you were still seeing Sherlock?”

“I am. As his boyfriend,” Lestrade grinned, slipping an arm around Sherlock’s waist, “We have an open relationship, but… I’ve been saying for ages we should make it poly and he can retire from the dating business, focus on his writing, and maybe become a relationship counsellor.”

John smiled, “That sounds about right.”

“Speaking of graduating,” Sherlock stated, “I want you to take Lestrade up on his offer. Help him out at the office. A desk position won’t hurt you, then you can study for the exams and…”

“Fail,” John frowned, “And why should I take a job as a clerk when I’m already a _doctor_.”

“A _locum_ doctor,” Sherlock pointed out, “Your hours are atrocious and you hate your work. You need excitement in your life, and frankly dating someone your family wouldn’t approve of isn’t enough for you.”

“So maybe dating _two_ people your family doesn’t approve of will…”

“Lestrade!” Sherlock snapped, “Sorry, John. He’s determined to play matchmaker with me.”

“Umm,” John frowned, “I’m already seeing you.”

“Yes, but you’re not _dating_ him. Not really. Sherlock lets people he’s dating know where he lives and involves them more in his personal life.”

“So sort of like me staying with him during his mourning for Molly, stopping by his crummy bedsit to pick up his things, and then taking him back to mine for a heat?”

“Um… yeah,” Lestrade’s eyes widened, “Yeah, a bit like that. Sherlock, are you _dating_ him?”

“Surprise?” Sherlock shrugged.

“Well, I’ll be!” Lestrade laughed, “Guess you and I should go out a few times, eh?”

“Sure,” John grinned.

XXX

John groaned as Lestrade dug in a bit deeper at a sore muscle, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You’ll be amazing,” Lestrade promised as Sherlock carried another box upstairs and dropped it on the floor.

“So I’m just going to be a beast of burden, am I?”

“Leave the guilt trips, Sherlock,” Lestrade scolded, “John’s really anxious about his test tomorrow.”

“He’s also completely unpacked. You are _not_.”

“As if you care what the place looks like,” Lestrade scoffed, but he stood up to help move things anyway.

“You’ll do fine, John,” Sherlock said softly as he walked back to the door of 221B to fetch another box from Lestrade’s car.

“Thanks, Lock,” John smiled softly.

It had been six months since John had last limped and he was going to be taking the physical test that would allow him to join the police department officially. He was also moving into a nice flat with Sherlock and Lestrade on Baker Street. He’d unpacked the day before and now Sherlock and Lestrade were getting settled while he tried to get over the soreness of his test run the day before.

As it turned out, John and Lestrade made better friends than lovers, though they did occasionally fuck for fun when Sherlock was being a prick. They were more interested in bitching about Sherlock together and going out for drinks. Still, they balanced each other well and were good friends. The flat they’d let out had two small rooms upstairs and a master one on the first floor. They shared a bath and a water closet between the two floors. The first floor contained a sweet old lady who had been one of Sherlock’s first ‘customers’.

Incidentally, Sherlock had _refused_ to give up his companionship position and John had supported him on it. Instead, they’d altered the rules a bit. Sherlock now used protection with everyone _except_ John and Lestrade. It wasn’t foolproof, and they all got tested regularly, but it made their lives a lot less worrisome. It also meant Lestrade could indulge his own lactation kink for the first time. Overall their lives were getting more comfortable… and more complicated.

John picked up his uniform from a nearby box. Lestrade had ordered it for him in advance because he was fairly certain that John would make PC tomorrow. _Complicated? Sure. But I still wouldn’t have it any other way._


End file.
